


Sparring

by quinngrey



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Sparring, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinngrey/pseuds/quinngrey
Summary: In which Celegorm chooses his prize for winning.





	Sparring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WayfaringScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayfaringScribe/gifts).



> Request for Celegorm/Curufin with sparring, throne sex, and breath play!

Sharp movements and sharper blades flew from both sides of the sparring match, Celegorm’s feral gaze locked on Curufin’s almost bored looking eyes. The only indication that the younger was exerting energy was the light sheen of sweat that beaded upon his brow and dampened his hairline. He was a picture of self-control, not like Celegorm in the slightest. Celegorm was wild, his silver blond hair pulled in a messy tail if only to get it from his eyes, several slashes tore open his tunic where he had misjudged the other’s distance as he struck his own blows. Perhaps he ought have removed te tunic prior to their fight like Curufin had, but unlike his brother he rarely thought ahead, preferring to live in the moment. 

Stumbling up the dias of their cousin’s throne, Curvo near lost his footing, toppling into the ornately carved stone seat as his brother’s blade found his throat. Lips curving into a smirk, his grey eyes flicked up, chest heaving slightly as the other pressed the blunted edge further into his skin. Curvo’s breath caught at the pressure, air not coming as easily as before as his brother loomed over him like a beast about to devour his prey. 

“Draw?”

“Not in your fucking dreams,” Celegorm barked a laugh, his calloused fingers already pulling apart the lacing of Curufin’s breeches. 

Curvo’s lip pulled up into a smirk, brow tauntingly raised. “I don’t recall the prize being a fuck on dear Ingoldo’s pompous throne, brother mine.”

“And I don’t recall there being any prize at all, so I’m making one,” Celegorm retorted, smug as ever as he tore open the tight leather breeches. “Strip.”

Curvo dropped his own blade in favour of rolling his hips upward, lifting his arse from the throne enough to get his trousers down past his slim hips. The knife at his throat didn’t relent, which made the entire thing more challenging. 

“You are aware I have no intention of running, aren’t you? The knife is hardly necess-“ Curvo was cut short as he sharpened edge bit into his skin. 

“My win, my rules. All the way off, Curvo.”

The leather breeches fell to the floor, kicked off his ankles with a flick of his foot. Celegorm’s free hand when to his own lacing, tugging the cords loose until he could free his cock. In his back pocket where he always kept it, he pulled out a vial of oil. “Open it and slick me up or I’m going in dry,” he threatened lightly, though there was a laugh behind it. 

Taking the vial, Curufin did as told, coating his hand before stroking his brother’s thick cock, eyes that never left Celegorm’s face darkening with arousal. Celegorm’s arm looped under Curvo’s thigh, hoisting him up, and Curvo was thankful he had moved the blade from his neck before jostling him so much. Surely, had he not, Curufin would not have fared well. He only had a moment to consider the possibility before Celegorm was forcing his length past the unprepared ring of muscle, pain sparking the rest of his senses and tearing him from any sort of thought. 

Curvo gasped, involuntarily pulling back from the rough entry, when Celegorm’s rough fingers enclosed his throat, the arm around his thigh stopping him from getting away. He clawed at his brother’s fingers first, but Celegorm’s grip was too tight around his windpipe that darkness warped the edges of his vision in mere seconds. At the very least, it momentarily distracted him from the stretch of his brother’s cock in his arse. 

“So fucking tight, Curvo,” Celegorm grunted out, forcing the last few centimeters of his length inside. Drawing his hips back slowly, he was savouring the way Curufin gasped for breath, muscle clenching around him. Regardless of how many times he got to fuck the other, Celegorm always was surprised by how tight Curvo was, his slick heat tending and teasing against his own will. 

Curufin’s fingers felt numb, grasping weakly at his brother’s hand as he felt himself starting to lose the battle for breath. His skin flushed, eyes rolling back, but just as he was about to give into the darkness, the hand on his throat released and air filled his lungs. Coughing as the intake of breath burned down his throat, he reached for the tatters of Celegorm’s ripped tunic and pulled him into a fierce kiss. 

All was forgotten as the blond thrust deep into his brother’s arse, arm holding Curvo up by the leg as he fucked him harder into the throne. Those lithe fingers curled into the knotted mess of blond, a desperate moan escaping between fierce kisses. Every moment was utter bliss, fire within the fëa and blood pumping so fast the sound seemed to fill the throne chamber. 

When Curvo came, he did so after bringing Celegorm’s bruising touch back to his throat, his own hand furiously stroking his own cock. He arched against the stone throne, eyes rolling back in his head in more of a wanton display than he would ever admit to as Celegorm fucked into him with abandon. With a growl, the blond chased after his own release, not relenting until he met his own release. His seed spilled around his cock as he thrust a few more times into oversensitivity, pulling out at long last before his fingers left his near limp brother’s throat once more. 

Curvo slumped into the throne, skin tinged purple where deep bruises blossomed on his throat, his legs spread lewdly as his abused hole dripped the other’s release. He panted for breath that had long been denied to him, eyes closed as he regained his senses. Celegorm rearranged his clothes in silence, save for the harsh sound of catching his breath. He grabbed for his brother’s discarded trousers, placing them on the arm rest. 

“You good?”

“Mhmm,” Curvo managed, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and slowly opening his eyes. He didn’t want to appear weak, couldn’t appear affected, but Eru, he ached more than he had in an age. Grabbing the leather breeches, he pulled them on and tried not to wince. “When I win next time, I’m going to choke you to the brink of the Halls,” he reminded, though his voice was far too hoarse to actually sound threatening. 

“Sure thing, brother mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr @quinngreyy


End file.
